Where does an angel go?
by Kierastarlight
Summary: Takes place during episode 5.01 so very spoilery to that episode. The hug I wanted to see is here in this short story. Friendship.


"Castiel." Dean called out the name in his sleep, and it seared his heart as he woke up in the quiet of the night.

He jerked, and caught the attention of Sam, who had been sleeping on Bobby's couch. "Dean. You miss him."

Dean looked over at Bobby's kitchen, at that set of windows where Castiel had appeared one night.

_He was supposed to be immortal. Where do the immortal go when they die?_

"Yeah, and you don't have to rub it in. Get your chick-flick moment quota somewhere else."

"Jesus Christ, Dean, stop acting like a juvenile and face the fact that this is really affecting you. Talk to me. Let it out. You're saying his name in your sleep."

"I am?" Dean said, and then realized he didn't want to hear the answer. "Let's go back to sleep."

"Why, so I can hear you moaning his name some more as I'm trying to fall asleep? No, Dean. Talk to me now.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?" Dean asked. "I'm not the sharing and caring type. You know that, Sam."

Sam sighed. "Dean. Just say something. Anything. Let it out."

Dean whispered loudly. "Alright, I miss him! He shouldn't have been killed! It's my fault, he was helping me. I feel like shit. Are you happy now?"

"I miss him too, Dean," Sam said. Dean had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting, "not like I do!"

"Yeah, well, there's nothing we can do about it," Dean said instead. He laid his head back down and insisted the conversation was over.

He felt very alone as he tried to go back to sleep. As far as Dean could tell, angels were no longer looking over him.

--

They needed to find the Michael sword the next day. Dean wanted to find it quick, slice Lucifer's rotten heart with it, and then be free to drink himself into oblivion.

Dean missed Castiel terribly. Castiel had been a true friend, and now he was gone. He wished he hadn't taken him for granted. He wished he'd shown….shown what? Dean wondered. More appreciation? Dean was satisfied with that, until he realized it was much too late. His heart glossed over with the ice of his sorrow again.

He thought happily for a moment of Castiel's calm, quiet nature, his inquisitiveness, his innocence, his unfailing devotion to Dean, how he never cracked a smile, and how that trenchcoat must have been glued to him. He almost chuckled at the thought, and then sighed inwardly.

--

They were at that storage place where the sword supposedly was, and then Zachariah popped in like a bad infomercial, completely unwanted and incredibly annoying. Dean wanted to kill the bastard. He held him responsible for Castiel's death. Then Zachariah had them both pinned, trying to get them to agree to some new nonsense about Dean being the archangel Michael's vessel. He was threatening to kill them both, and Dean didn't care. Just kills us, Dean told Zachariah. At least then this whole mess would be over.

Zachariah wasn't giving up that easily, and Dean braced himself for more torture, hoping his body passed out before it became too much. Then, in a flash, Castiel was in the room, killing some of Zachariah's goons.

Dean blinked. The sun might as well rose right before his eyes for the warmth he felt stir within him. Everything changed in that moment. He went from not caring to wanting to live. He went from feeling hollow to feeling immense gratitude. Castiel was alive!

Castiel kicked ass all over the room and then got Zachariah to leave as well, making him fix Dean and Sam first. Dean stared at him, feeling despite the apocalypse coming, that all was right in the world again. There he was, still in that damn trenchcoat. He was never so happy to see a piece of clothing in his life!

And then Cas was scolding him, and branding some sigil into his ribs – it hurt, but it was nothing like the ache he'd felt with Castiel gone. Dean felt lighthearted and giddy, and suddenly remembered his remorse earlier at not showing his appreciation to Castiel.

So he enclosed Castiel in his arms. Wrapped himself around that trenchcoat and squeezed Castiel's human vessel as tight as he could. Castiel stood there, uncertain as to what to do, and then lifted his arms as well and enclosed them around Dean's torso. Dean squeezed him tighter and was elated that he could feel Castiel's heartbeat right next to his. "I'm so glad you're alive, Cas," Dean said, before finally letting go.

Castiel studied Dean, and looked as if he was processing what had just happened to him. He even looked down at his own arms curiously. His face softened.

"Thank you, Dean," he said softly. "Now I must find God," he said, distantly, as if it were barely on his mind. He disappeared.

Dean didn't mind that he'd left. At least he was around to reappear again. He couldn't help but smile as he turned to Sam to ask him if he was ready to get going.

--

Castiel reappeared in another country, ready to begin his search for God, the one he believed had brought him back from the dead.

Almost ready, anyway. He was distracted by how good Dean's appreciation for him felt, how it had made his arms feel. They still tingled.

And he smiled a small smile. He was aware that Dean had wondered where an angel went where he died. Castiel didn't really know the answer himself, but he could feel that part of him had been held in Dean's heart. Ironically, Dean had felt lost at not knowing where the angel was, but he had held Castiel close to his heart the entire time.


End file.
